


The Rites of Ender (and other Sexcapades of Jim Kirk)

by ShiranaiKoe



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Casual Sex, Euphemisms, Getting Together, Huddling For Warmth, Implied Sexual Content, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26522821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiranaiKoe/pseuds/ShiranaiKoe
Summary: “Look, Spock. I’ve been noticing this thing you do, when I – well. When I hook up.”Spock looks like he would like nothing more than to be shot into outer space and suffocate. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. So he won’t deny it, Jim thinks grimly. He’s grateful for Vulcan honesty, at least.//Jim notices something; Spock pines.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 9
Kudos: 325





	The Rites of Ender (and other Sexcapades of Jim Kirk)

Jim takes his duties as a captain seriously.

“No one questions that,” Bones mutters under his breath, and sticks him with a hypo.

“Ouch. Fu- What is that,” Jim exclaims, wrenching his arm away. Bones pulls it back. 

“It’s for the swelling. You have a broken wrist, Jim. Let me do my job.” Oh, right.

“No, but. Sometimes he gives me this look, you know? Like he’s disappointed.” Jim says, waving his free arm around. Much to Bones’ dismay, Jim has started treating the alarming amount of time he spends in the med bay as an opportunity to work through his interpersonal relationship issues. Specifically one relationship, namely the one with his science officer.

“I assume ‘he’ is Mr. Spock?”

“Er.” Jim frowns. Hadn’t he said that? “Yeah.”

“And when exactly does he give you ‘the looks’?”

“Well, one was just last night at that banquet. I was gone for a few minutes with one of those hot Aerian biologists, the one with the dark hair, you know? And when he saw me, his face just went-“ Jim demonstrates the facial expression.

The medical officer gives him a short glance and goes back to realigning Jim’s bones.

Jim continues, unbothered. “You know, this might be a bit of a reach, but I’ve been getting the feeling that Spock doesn’t like me hooking up with people.”

And that gets Bones’ attention. He looks up from Jim’s arm, eyebrows raised. “You have?” he asks, sounding impressed.

Disconcerted, but not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Jim tears on. 

“Yeah!” He shifts around, forgetting about his injury and wincing. “You think that could be it?”

Bones is still staring at him. “Yeah. I think it could,” he says slowly. “You know, I didn’t think you’d ever notice. You can be surprisingly… dense, when it comes to this stuff.”

Jim ignores that.

“I just don’t know why!”, he continues. “Maybe it’s offensive to him. I don’t really know if casual sex is a thing among Vulcans. I suspect not.”

Bones closes his mouth and goes back to work. “Okay, never mind.”

“Hey,” Jim protests, but Bones has apparently lost all interest in the conversation. Fine. Jim can figure this out on his own.

~O~

It doesn’t take long until he gets an opportunity to confront Spock about it. They dock onto the commercial centre of a friendly civilization a few days later. The city has an impressive entertainment sector, and Jim isn’t exactly discrete about the fact that he spends most of his off-duty time there drifting through bars and hotel rooms. He returns late on the second evening, his head still thumping and his limbs aching. He’s about to enter his quarters when Spock steps out of the adjacent door, his gaze falling on Jim. 

And there it is again. That look. Jim stops in his tracks, one hand already on the ID sensor by his door.

“Hey, Spock, wait.”

Spock turns around reluctantly. His gaze flickers down to Jim’s exposed neck, which he knows is currently displaying an impressive array of hickeys. So it is that.

“I am assigned to gamma shift, captain. I will be late if I do not leave now.”

“I’m the captain. You aren’t late to anything as long as you’re following my orders.”

Spock has a constipated look on his face. “I am not sure that HQ agree with you on that. But I accept your reasoning.”

He waits for Jim to talk. Jim shuffles closer, buttoning up his shirt, so Spock will finally start looking at his face. Spock notices the gesture, and his eyes widen by a fine degree. He’s turning a bit green around the nose, if Jim’s eyes aren’t fooling him.

“Look, Spock. I’ve been noticing this thing you do, when I – well. When I hook up.”

Spock looks like he would like nothing more than to be shot into outer space and suffocate. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. So he won’t deny it, Jim thinks grimly. He’s grateful for Vulcan honesty, at least.

“I don’t know if it’s something cultural, or-“ Jim falters. “I just wanted to make sure that we’re good, you know?”

Spock stares at him.

“I don’t want you to think that I’m not taking my job seriously, because I have literally never been as serious about anything else in my life. And I don’t want to let this turn into an issue between us. I just – hook up with people, okay? I’ve always done it and it’s not a big deal. It’s just the way I am.”

Spock is still looking at him like he’s suddenly started speaking Klingon. Then he starts blinking an abnormal amount, especially for Vulcan standards, and shuffling his feet. Jim doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look so human before.

“I understand, Captain. I did not intend to give you the impression that I am questioning your commitment to your work. I apologize if I have done so,” he says roughly.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Jim clasps his shoulder. He’s going for reassuring, but Spock looks more like he’s been slapped.

“Sorry,” Jim says sheepishly, and retracts his hand. “See you around then, eh?”

He retreats into his quarters with a swish of the door. He needs a shower – his hair is still sticky and dull with sweat and god-knows-what, his clothes thrown on haphazardly. He glances at himself in the mirror and – well. Suffice to say, it would have probably been tactful to have cleaned up before this conversation, to spare Spock’s Vulcan sensitivities.

~O~

A few days later, Jim ambles back into the mess hall of the newly established Federation embassy on Endoria, on the arm of a very beautiful Endorian priest, who has just demonstrated the full repertoire of Endorian fertility rites to Jim in a private session. Jim’s eyes immediately flicker over to where Spock is standing, surrounded by a gaggle of scientists, including Bones.

The group parts when they approach, and the head of the local research facility turns towards Jim.

“Captain Kirk. Are you enjoying your tour of the embassy?” she asks, but Jim’s priest holds up a hand when Jim opens his mouth to answer.

“He who has undergone the Rites of Ender must not speak to others before sundown of the same day. It fouls the Spirit that has been imbued by the Gods,” he recites, and Jim snaps his mouth shut.

The scientists all murmur appreciatively and perform a complicated hand gesture in Jim’s direction.

“May the spirit guide you on your future paths,” the head scientist says reverently and smiles at him. “It is a great honour that you have lent your pleasure to our gods.”

Next to her, Bones is clearly close to unhinging his jaw in an effort to keep a straight face. “Indeed,” he says in a strained voice. “The captain’s piety is one his greatest virtues.”

Jim gives him a flat look.

There’s a strange noise coming from Jim’s left. The scientists all glance at Spock in concern. It sounds like he’s attempting to grind his teeth into bone meal in his own mouth. “If you will excuse me,” he grates out, “I have some matters to attend to. Goodbye.”

With those words, he turns and walks away. Jim almost calls after him but remembers himself at the last second. He watches him go with a twinge of regret and resigns himself to an afternoon of following others around with his hands folded behind his back and nodding serenely at everything people say.

He doesn’t see Spock at all that day, which is just as well, since he always finds it very hard to shut up in Spock’s presence. It doesn’t stop there though - Spock avoids him on the following day, and the day after that, which is quite an achievement, considering they live next to each other. 

Jim ponders this a few days later, in the privacy of his room. It seems incredible that he hasn’t talked to Spock in three days. There’s a fucking door connecting their quarters. They’re basically a married couple! 

…

Not – really, of course. Yeah, they spend pretty much all their time together, have meals together, engage in extracurricular activities (Chess!), save each other’s lives, but they don’t – well, they don’t have sex, do they?

Not that Jim wouldn’t – but he’s not sure Spock even really – in a flash, Jim remembers a recurring dream that he’s been trying hard to stuff into the furthest recesses of his consciousness – the image of sinewy white skin moving above, of stern eyes flashing at him in the near-darkness of his quarters…

Anyway. The point is, they’re not a married couple, but it’s still impressive that Jim can count the number of times he’s seen Spock in the last three day-cycles on one hand. He even leaves shifts early to avoid encountering Jim, which is frankly mind-boggling. 

They haven’t played chess, nor worked on any scientific problems together, which leaves Jim with an unexpectedly large gap of nothing to do in his daily routine - especially now that they’ve left Endoria and the option of fucking himself into oblivion isn’t there anymore. What, he can only wonder, is Spock doing with all this newfound free time? 

Needless to say, Jim is very concerned. So, naturally, he goes to Bones for advice.

“Jim, you can’t ask me these questions. There’s this thing called patient confidentiality; you might have heard of it?”

Bones is neck-deep in paperwork, since they’ll be restocking the med bay at their upcoming stop at Starbase 7. He’s not happy about the fact that Jim has been sitting on the nearest bio-bed for 20 minutes, emphatically lamenting Spock’s behaviour. 

The thing is, Jim is honestly sorry that he’s bothering his chief medical officer at this time, but surely Bones can see how alarming the situation is. 

“I haven’t seen him at a single meal this week!”

“Well, I have. He was at lunch at around 1100 hours today. He was there with… Uhura. I think. And some kid from the engineering department.”

“What? But he never eats that early. He told me that it upsets his stomach. We always eat together at 3.”

Jim jumps down from the bio-bed and starts pacing back and forth next to Bones’ desk, wringing his hands. Bones groans and puts down his PADD. “Jim,” he says despairingly.

Jim rounds on him. “Look. I’m just worried. He’s been really weird since Endoria, and I think it’s because of the thing with that priest, you know – the fertility rites-thing!”

Bones looks up at him. His eyes have gone glassy. “You think so?”, he says in a hollow voice.

Jim pauses. “Well, Yeah,” he says, feeling like he’s missing something. “I talked to him about the whole hooking-up thing. And it seemed like he was okay with it. I really thought we’d talked it out.”

“Okay, Jim. I think you should go to your quarters, and call Spock there.”

Jim frowns. He’s thought about that too, of course, but it feels wrong. Like he’d be abusing his position. If Spock doesn’t want to see him, well, it’s not really Jim’s place to force him, is it?

Bones sees his expression. “No, listen, Jim. I really think you should. You should order him to your room and ask him to tell you why he has an issue with you sleeping with other people.”

Bones has a really weird look in his eyes. It’s a bit creepy. Jim draws back, disconcerted, but Bones just leans forward and keeps talking. “You should do it for your own sake, for his sake, and for the sake of the sanity of every single fucking member of this crew, because we are all dying inside.”

“You are?” Jim blinks down at Bones.

“Yes,” Bones says, like a prayer.

“Okay.” Jim hesitates. “I didn’t know anyone but me had noticed anything.”

Bones holds up a hand like he’s warding off a demon. “Just - go, Jim,” he says, shaking his head. And then he bends back over his PADD, and Jim traipses out of med bay obediently.

~O~

He’s on his way to his quarters, still processing the encounter, when the ground starts shaking beneath his feet. There’s a distant howling sound. He catches himself on the wall, and then chaos breaks out - the alarm goes off, sirens wail through the corridors, and Jim’s comm crackles.

“Bridge to captain.”

“What is going on,” Jim asks, voice raised over the noise of doors opening on all sides of the corridor, and people rushing past him.

“I- I believe we just grazed a planet’s atmosphere.” Sulu supplies disbelievingly. It explains the sound Jim had heard- the screeching of metal as it superheats and bends. But that’s impossible! The ship’s preliminary sensors should have notified them in due time, and even overridden manual control if they got too close to any obstacles.

“What? How?” Jim starts hurrying towards the bridge.

“I can’t explain it, captain. A moment ago we were in empty space. This planet- it just appeared out of nowhere. You’d better come up here.”

“I’m on my way.”

~O~

Spock is at Jim’s side the moment he enters the bridge, speaking in an urgent tone. “Captain, I believe that the planet must have been concealed by some sort of cloaking mechanism.”

It’s almost disconcerting to see him at first, and to hear him speak to Jim like nothing is going on at all. But of course, Spock is nothing if not professional, and this is clearly not the time to let personal differences affect their working relationship.

Jim takes his seat and pulls up an overview of current stats on a screen. Spock takes up his usual position at his side.

“What’s the evidence for that?” Jim asks, his eyes flying across the screen. Spock steps forward.

“The holographic sensors on the right hull side of the ship, captain. They all malfunctioned at the same time for 1.4 ms when we passed this point,” Spock pulls up the relevant data on the screen and indicates the navigational monitor, “which is exactly the radius that a cloaking device needed for a planet of this size would target. This is why our sensors did not alert us, and it explains why the planet was not visible to us until we grazed it.”

Jim’s mind races as he does his own calculations to confirm the numbers. “Yes,” he says, nodding. “That must be it.”

He takes in the rest of the data. There are occasional blips in their sensor functions leading back a few minutes. “It doesn’t just cover this planet,” he postulates, mostly to himself. 

“Yes,” Spock says at his side. “I suspect that the interference is originating from this planet, but it covers a larger area. There may well be other asteroids or space debris concealed around us.”

Silence falls on the bridge as they all process the implications of this. Then, Sulu speaks: “Captain, I’ve slowed to half-impulse for the time being. Mr. Scott is working on a solution, but right now, we’re immobilized. For all we know, we could be in the middle of an asteroid field.”

For the next few hours, there’s a restless atmosphere on the bridge. Slowly, they move along the rim of the planet’s atmosphere. It shimmers in and out of being, revealing a crisp snowy landscape, cropped by large bodies of partly frozen water. Jim hates sitting idle like this, waiting for them to crash into an invisible asteroid, and he knows the rest of his crew is just as unhappy. 

After a while, he leaves the bridge in Spock’s hands and wanders down to engineering to hassle Scotty. He’s thrown out, so instead he turns to pacing up and down along the window in his room, wracking his brain and throwing dark looks at the planet every now and then.

When Scotty finally comms him with some good news, Jim is back on the bridge and beyond bored. “I’ve got it, Captain. I’ve found a way of dealing with this cloaking device, but it’s not exactly elegant.”

“I’ll take anything, Scotty, hit me with it,” Jim moans, sitting up properly in his chair.

“Well, I cannae get our sensors to circumvent the cloaking array, the signal is too intricate. But if we’re sure that the device is on this planet, we could activate a signal dampener on its surface and block the entire signal at its source. I’ve got a device like that here. Only thing is…” he trails off. “Well, somebody’d have to shuttle down and install it.”

“Right,” Jim goes, squinting at the readings they’re getting from the planet. Non-toxic atmosphere. Average surface temperature -10 degrees Celsius. Almost cosy. 

Spock is glaring at him like he knows exactly what is coming.

“I’ll go,” Jim announces, and makes to get up.

“Captain, no,’ Spock says decisively. “You can’t-“

Jim rounds on him. “I’m afraid that isn’t your call to make, officer,” he says, rather more coldly than intended.

There’s an angry silence, and then Scotty supplies via the comm: “Perhaps it would be advisable if a team of two went down.”

“I will go with you, captain,” Spock says immediately, and Jim swears he sees several people rolling their eyes. Still, this might be the perfect opportunity to finally talk to Spock one-on-one. He nods. “That’s fine.”

~O~

The signal dampener is a surprisingly small and light device, considering the power it’s supposed to have. Jim and Spock are fully equipped and ready to leave within 5 minutes, the device stored in Jim’s backpack.

After 5 minutes in the shuttle, spent in tense silence, they land near the projected site in a great hurl of snow. It’s freezing, and when they climb out Jim can’t suppress an uncomfortable flashback to the last time he was launched onto a very similar planet, only back then it was against his will.

He’d thought he was totally over that, but Spock is still being weird, supplying nothing but monosyllabic grunts to everything Jim says, and he finds himself getting annoyed in spite of himself.

“There’s an incline here. Scotty said to set the thing up at a high altitude if possible. We should try to get up there.”

Spock looks at where Jim is pointing, nods, and continues his silent trek through the snow.

Jim stops. He feels like stomping his foot like an 8-year old. Goddammit, he wants Spock to look at him. “Okay, what is the deal with you?”

Spock halts in his tracks, turning his head ever-so-slightly. “You are merely repeating information that I already know. I heard Mr. Scott’s instructions myself.”

Jim grinds his teeth. “Alright.” He strides past Spock, feeling mutinous.

They set up the signal dampener in silence. Above them, the Enterprise is faintly visible, moving through the twilit sky.

“This should do it,” Jim says, more to himself than Spock, because they are Not Talking™. “Scotty, we’ve got it set up,” he informs engineering.

“Alright, give us a moment,” Scotty replies.

They wait, the hoods of their snowsuits turned up against the storm. Jim knows his face must be red. Spock is as pale as ever. Their eyes meet, and they both look away. But then Jim reminds himself why he agreed to them coming down here together in the first place. Better to just get it over and done with.

“We will talk about this, you know,” he says, to the mound of snow on his left. “You clearly have some kind of issue with me.”

Spock turns his head. For a moment he says nothing, and then he sighs. “Captain-“ he starts.

“Alright guys, we’re ready. Anytime now,” Scotty announces cheerily, and Spock closes his mouth again. 

Jim activates the signal dampener with a few taps on his PADD. A light starts blinking and there’s a faint buzzing sound coming from the device.

“Aaand- that’s it. Worked like a charm,” Scotty says, and Jim immediately comms the bridge. “How’s it looking, Sulu? Can you steer us out of this sector safely?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, captain. Only, it’s getting quite dark on your side of the planet, and the snowstorm is obscuring your signals. We might have to wait a few hours before we can beam you up. Can you manage a night down there?”

Jim hesitates, glancing up at Spock. He himself won’t have a problem, but Spock’s preferred temperature range is higher than a human’s. The climate will affect him much more than Jim. 

Spock looks uncomfortable at the prospect, but he nods. 

Jim activates his comm again. “Should be fine. We’ll find a-“ he scans their surroundings – a hilly tundra-like scenery, “a cave or something.” – And once again he’s reminded of that evening he spent in a snowy cave with Ambassador Spock.

They do find a cave – or at least something that passes for a cave if you only look at it from one angle. It doesn’t provide nearly as much shelter from the cold as Jim would have liked, and he can tell after only one hour that the night is going to be tough on Spock.

While Jim installs movement sensors around the entrance of the cave and sets up a sort of inventory of all their resources on a rock ledge, Spock sits in front of the fire, huddled into their only blanket and shivering.

Jim stops his work at some point and considers the sad image Spock is making. He’s pissed, but it’s still Spock. His Spock. Whatever Spock may be thinking. Jim’s not really sure what’s going on between them right now, but maybe it should be postponed until they’re on equal ground again – that is, in an environment they can both comfortably survive in.

He puts down the PADD he was tinkering with, fetches a hypo from his backpack and lowers himself onto the ground next to Spock. “Here. Take this.”

Spock takes the hypo, his hands white like marble. Jim thinks they might actually be shaking. He feels a twinge of regret.

“What is this?” Spock asks.

“It’s a thermoregulator. Should balance your internal temperature.”

“Thank you. That is very considerate of you. I was not aware that this is part of our standard medical equipment.”

Jim hesitates. It is, in fact, not standard medical equipment. He’s just been carrying one around with him on all away missions since he realized how sensitive Spock was to temperature. Usually, he wouldn’t be embarrassed by this, but in light of how tense the last few hours have been, it seems too … intimate a thing to admit.

“Bones gave it to me,” Jim lies. “You know how hot I get at night.”

Spock’s hands are too shaky and numb to get a proper grip on the vial, so Jim reaches out for it. “Here, let me.”

He peels back the layers of clothing at Spock’s neck. With a hissing sound, he empties the hypospray into Spock’s veins.

Spock is still under his touch. He lets Jim fix up his clothing, and he doesn’t complain when Jim settles down next to him closer than before. Jim can only assume that the cold is affecting him so severely that it triumphs even over his usual aversion to bodily contact.

Jim pokes around in the fire, trying to coax some more heat from the soggy logs they’d found outside. After a while, Jim gets up and goes back to tinkering with his PADD and to keep Spock entertained, he keeps up a running commentary about his progress, which Spock occasionally supplements with his own insights. 

At some point, Spock falls silent. So Jim puts down his tools, piles up some more logs which catch fire reluctantly and under sizzling protest, and settles down next to the sleeping Vulcan.

When he wakes up, they’re slumped against each other, Jim’s head on Spock’s shoulder. He stays like that until Spock rouses a few minutes later and immediately stiffens. Jim’s mood drops into the freezing range.

“Sorry,” he mutters, moving away and making to get up. But then he stops. “No. Actually, I’m not sorry. Look, Spock, I don’t know what your issue is, but-“ he struggles for words, “It can’t continue. I thought we talked this out last week, but now- you haven’t talked to me since Endoria. Is this all because I like to hook up in my free time? If so, that’s your problem, because newsflash: people have se-“

Spock has been sitting there, wide eyed, and then he suddenly says: “No!” And he says it so forcefully that it actually makes Jim shut up.  
There’s a pause. Then Jim says: “What, ‘no’?”

“No, I am not offended by your… promiscuity,” Spock says impatiently, his shoulders up to his ears.

“My – what.” Jim stares at Spock. “Are you calling me a slut?”

Spock blinks back at him like a deer caught in headlights. “That is not what I meant. The word ‘promiscuity’ doesn’t carry any inherent negative connotation, does it?”

Jim is seething internally but restrains himself because he knows, rationally, that Spock really didn’t intend to insult him. He glares at Spock for a few seconds, then he lets out a harsh breath and turns to walk away. Where to, he isn’t quite sure. Just, somewhere Spock isn’t.

“Cap-“ Spock starts and backtracks. “Jim.” His voice is uncharacteristically strained.

“I just need a moment, okay? I’ll be right back.”

As he’s walking out, there’s a rustle of fabric behind him and then Spock announces crisply: “Jim, I am attracted to you.”

Jim stops in his tracks. He turns. There’s Spock, the blanket furling around his feet, his face glowing in the firelight. He looks terrified, but determined.

“The truth is, that I – have developed an attachment. Of the romantic sort. That is why I have reacted negatively to witnessing your frequent engagement in casual intercourse. I have been experiencing jealousy.”

Jim blinks at Spock.

The comm crackles. “Bridge to Keptin. Are you receiwing?”, Chekov’s voice comes through the link.

Jim activates his comm-badge. “Hold that thought,” he says and turns his attention back to Spock. He moves closer, and Spock follows the movement apprehensively.

Spock – attracted to him. God, all those years, wasted. All those months that Jim has been flinging himself from one bed to the next in pathetic desperation, when he could have been having – he dares not finish the thought.

“Are you saying,” Jim says quietly, even a bit dangerously perhaps, “that you want to have sex with me?"

Spock’s eyes widen. He glances down at Jim’s comm-badge.

“… Keptin?”, Chekov says.

Jim swears and fumbles with his badge. The stupid thing keeps jamming. 

He clears his throat. “Chekov – sorry about that. What is it you needed?”

There’s a very pregnant pause. “Ah. Ze snowstorm has settled and I’we been able to lock onto your signal. Do you want us to beam you up now?”

“In a minute. We’ve got some things to pack up.”

“Alright, Keptin.” The connection is cut, and then it’s silent again – just the faint howling of the weak wind on the plains outside.

Jim walks over to the rock-ledge and stuffs everything into their bags. He hands over Spock’s backpack, puts on his own, and closes his jacket in one long zip. Then he steps up to Spock, who has been largely motionless since his grand confession.

“Spock. You will be coming to my quarters tonight at 1800 hours – no. at 1000 hours”, Jim corrects hastily, “ – time, and there we will be having a long, hard talk about your feelings. Are we in agreement?”

Spock inclines his head. “Is that a euphemism for sexual intercourse, captain?”

Jim nods. “Yes, that is a euphemism for sexual intercourse.”

Spock’s eyes flare darkly. “Then yes, we are in agreement.”

Jim reaches for his comm-badge with shaking hands. “Chekov. You can beam us up now.”

~O~

Jim is feeling great when he goes to his obligatory post ground-time check-up later that day. He hops up and sprawls himself across the bio-bed without protest. Bones raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment. He gets to work checking Jim’s vitals.

“Hey, Bones, remember when I told you about how Spock was acting really weirdly?” Jim chatters at the ceiling.

Bones’ expression darkens. “You mean, when you were here yesterday? Yes, I remember. And I’ll stop you right there, because whatever it is, I don’t want to know.”

He taps Jim’s shoulder. “Turn around.” Jim turns.

“No, but listen. I know what the problem was – Bones, are you listening?”

“No. Sit up.” He moves the medical tricorder along Jim’s chest. “All good. Take your shirt off and lie down.”

“No really. You won’t believe it.” Jim continues in a muffled voice. “You see, the thing was-“

“Sweet Jesus!” Bones exclaims somewhere out of Jim’s limited range of vision. “You look like you’ve been mauled. Are those – hickeys?”

Jim frees his head from his shirt. “That’s the thing. You see, Spock wasn’t offended, he was jealous.”

Bones draws back, horror dawning on his face. “Are you saying- do- Are those-?!“ – There’s a clatter as he knocks over an IV stand with his arm.

Jim tries to placate him after that, but to no avail. Bones stubbornly refuses to complete Jim’s check-up. “No, I’m sorry. I can’t help you. Come back when I can no longer trace the outline of his incisors on your neck.”

Which is fair enough. On his way back to his quarters, Jim thinks that it’s probably a good thing that Bones hadn’t asked him to take off his pants as well. He pulls out his PADD.

Kirk: Chess in my quarters, 1600 hours?  
Spock: Will there be more ‘talking about my feelings’?  
Kirk: Yes.  
Spock: I am using the expression as a euphemism in the same way you did earlier.  
Kirk: I got that.  
Spock: I will be there.  
Spock: Just to clarify, the sexual intercourse is not a prerequisite for my agreeing to play chess with you. I would have come regardless.

Jim stops in his tracks, stares down at his PADD, and swallows. He has another 30 minutes before his next shift, and he knows Spock is not on bridge duty right now, he’s been given a few hours to complete post-mission paperwork. Jim taps out an indecisive rhythm on the side of the PADD. 

What the hell.

Kirk: My quarters, now.  
Spock: ?  
Spock: I am on my way.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in a word doc on my computer for a while. I've edited and reedited and re-reedited, etc, and this is what came out of it. Hope someone enjoys this, I had a lot of fun writing it. I appreciate comments (AND KUDOS TOO!), and please point any errors out if you spot them! I wouldn't be surprised if there are some minor inconsistencies with the timeline given how much I went back over it... I'm not an expert on Star Trek lore either, most of my knowledge comes from Star Trek Voyager, so if there are any mentions of future tech/Starfleet conventions that shouldn't exist in this century, please let me know, although I can't guarantee that I'll be able to fix it.
> 
> PS: I am aware that IV stands aren't a thing on Starfleet vessels in any century, but I just loved the image so much I had to put it in.
> 
> I'll be back in a few weeks, or months, we'll see. XO, C.


End file.
